


The Feel of Your Touch

by Shtyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bottom Louis, Brianna Jungwirth - Freeform, Fluff, Freddie - Freeform, Happy, Johannah - Freeform, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, Sad, She's not a bitch I swear, Smut, Top Harry, like a lot, major feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shtyles/pseuds/Shtyles
Summary: "My skin still lights up whenever you touch me, and I hate it. Why was it so easy for you to get over me, when I'm still here with a racing heart whenever you look at me? It's pathetic, I know it is, but I don't know how to stop it."





	1. 1

Are you okay?

The text is simple enough, straight to the point and not beaten around the bush like most things between them are. Harry nibbles on his bottom lip anxiously, his black painted thumb hovering over the send button for what seems like forever. He's not sure if he's even allowed to do this, to ask such a simple question to a complicated situation. They haven't really talked or haven't had a proper conversation for ages but, this is something big, something that he can't avoid, shouldn't avoid and this is his friend. No matter what's happened between them, horribly or not, Louis needs all the support he can get. Get the support he'll need. The chemistry between them doesn't matter, not now and probably not ever because, Harry's learned by now, he understands, but that doesn't mean he can't be there for him; doesn't mean he can't comfort him in the time of need like the rest of the boys are doing, hell even Zayn - who has had endless arguments with Louis and who has completely destroyed any future friendship with him - is there. So, why can't he?

Harry puffs his cheeks and blows out hot air, his eyes watering for absolutely no reason, which is a lie because there's many reasons. So many he doesn't think he can count them all on both of his hands but, he's also exaggerating. He clenches his eyes, and forces himself to send the short, three worded text message.

He doubts he'll get one back soon, it's nearly four in the morning and the possibility that Louis might still be up is slim, hell, the possibility that Louis will even text back through his own free will, is slimmer.

Harry's heart thumps in his chest faster than normal as he stares at his phone, and he despises it, because even after two years of trying to forget, he can't.

The brightness of the screen against the dark mass in his room makes his eyes watery - at least that's what he's telling himself - and he quickly shuts it off, after making sure his volume is all the way up. Just in case he gets a text from a certain person. He sets it on his bed side table, and shifts so he's laying on his side, his thick white blanket keeping him away from the cold air.

He doesn't sleep, just stares blankly at his phone, waiting for Louis’ reply. It feels like they're texting for the first time all over again, with giddy butterflies in his stomach, except, it's not butterflies. It's like massive dinosaurs are stomping away at his insides. His phone goes off, a loud shrill tone that makes his ears hurt in the dead silence of his room, but he grabs it with fast hands. He takes a deep breath before he clicks the power button, and he's disappointed when it's not Louis, but an email, from some animal shelter that he signed up to volunteer for. Something about an offer for bunny rabbits; 40% off on the little fur balls.

Sighing, Harry carefully puts his phone back down. He brings his blanket closer to him and snuggles his face back into the pillow.

He's not awake, He thinks, it's early in the morning, why would Louis be awake at this time anyways?

It takes him a while to fall asleep, thoughts wandering his mind like an endless cycle that he can't stop, but eventually he does.

__

The first thing Harry does when he wakes up in the morning is check his phone, to see the time - which is 11:46, by the way - to see his notifications blown to the max as per usual, and to see if he has a new text message.

He doesn't, but the one he sent last night, the simple three worded text that asks how he's doing in this crisis, is read. Which means he's seen it. Which means Louis got his text and he willingly read it, sadly it doesn't say when, whether if it was last night or early this morning or even just now but the chat bubble isn't up, isn't bouncing because he isn't typing which means he isn't responding, he isn't going to.

Harry expected this, he did, prepared his mental and emotional state for it but it still hurts, creates a dull sting in the middle of his chest that thumps against his ribs.

Harry nibbles on his bottom lip, chews it thoughtfully because he immediately thinks of sending another one, a much more thoughtful paragraph - probably more of an essay but who cares - but he thinks it's not a good idea, definitely not. He breathes out heavily, his cheeks puffing up, and he places his phone down before falling back on his bed. He stares at the ceiling, taking in every inch and corner because he needs something to distract him, anything to distract him and what better distraction than counting the sharp ridges on his ceiling? Which is a lot, by the way. So many, he lost count at 146.

The need to get up and do something is slim, but he has too. He has to know what's going on and how Louis is doing but he's afraid that if he does, Louis will yell at him, just like he did last time.

Harry closes his eyes and forces himself up, the white sheet falling down to his lap to expose his naked torso. He rubs his eyes, a yawn escapes his mouth.

Then his phone chimes, a text message alert and Harry is afraid to open it. Afraid to be disappointed when he realizes that it isn't Louis, he's afraid that if it does actually happen to be him, which it probably isn't, that it's a message telling him to toss off.

But Harry opens it, and he's right, it isn't Louis- he's a bit disappointed but it's understandable- but the next best thing. It's Lottie, Louis’ sister.

Call me when you have the chance.

There's a little heart emoji at the end, a black one, and even though it seems so innocent and cute, it weighs a ton on just how the situation really is.

Harry stares at his phone, he doesn't notice how long - three minutes and twenty-four seconds - but he finally snaps out of it when it rings. It's Lottie, she must have noticed he read it.

“Hel-,” Harry clears his throat because it comes out croaky, “Hello?” He says.

“Hi Harry. It's me, Lottie. Which you probably already know.” She ends up mumbling to herself.

Harry smiles, the first smile he's given the past two days.

“Yeah.” He chuckles lowly. He holds his phone between his head and shoulder and absentmindedly starts to chip off his nail polish, a nervous habit he's developed. “Is,” he pauses again, the question holding his tongue down in bitterness. “Is Louis okay? He hasn't answered any of my texts…” as he says it, he feels pathetic and by 'texts’ he really just means the one. The one text with only three words and even though it seems like nothing, like he doesn't care because it's only just one, it is something. It's a big something because there's a lot of feelings in that one, three worded text.

Lottie is silent, just the faint sound of her breathing through the receiver, the awkward pause making Harry anxious as he waits. He almost speaks again, wonder if she's still there - she is, and even though she doesn’t speak, Harry can hear her breathing - but Lottie finally speaks.

“That's why I called…” her voice trails off. “We're having a little thing, for… mum. You should come.”

And she's avoiding the question, not answering outright but Harry knows, he understands, knows exactly how Louis deals with his feelings, he doesn't say anything about it though, he knows better.

“I will. When is it?” Harry breathes. It's been awhile since he's seen Louis, or even the other boys since they've been on break, too busy doing his own thing, like the movie and photo shoots.

“Next week, before the funeral. I know you and Louis are on rocky terms but…” she pauses again. Harry can hear a muffled voice, a rough one and Harry knows it's Louis, can tell by the hitch in his voice even though what he's saying isn't all that clear. “I know he wants you here.”

Harry sucks in a breath, doesn't speak, can't will himself to because there's a knot in his throat that he struggles to swallow down. His eyes start to brim with tears but he quickly blinked them back and clears his throat. He doesn’t like that Lottie said that, said one sentence and yet it fills him up with hope. Hope that he shouldn’t have, can’t have because the last time he felt that, it tore him to pieces and he doesn’t want that to happen again - he learned the first time, he doesn’t have to learn it again.

“I'll be there as soon as I can.” He says anyway, voice is still thick with emotion, and he hopes that Lottie doesn't mention it.

She doesn't.

“Great.” She breathes. “See you then, Harry.”

He says his goodbye and hangs up, tosses the phone behind him and lays back down with his arms spread out.

___

The flight is short. Too short, Harry thinks but in reality it's nine hours and twenty-six minutes, so yeah, it was pretty long. Not to Harry though. Any flight would have been too short because now he's getting cold feet. Stuck-in-a-frozen lake cold feet.

Maybe it's a mistake coming over here, just dropping by without Louis even knowing - if Lottie hasn't told him yet, maybe she hasn't, but if she did then doesn't that make it worse? Because then Louis would be expecting Harry. Then he would have all the harsh words ready for him to strike.

Harry quickly shakes his head. He's being ridiculous. Even though Louis is a bit rough around the edges he isn't a bully. Not a bad one, anyway.

He didn't expect someone to pick him up at the airport. Not at all so he's surprised to find Liam standing there with every camera from every magazine and newspaper flashing blinding light at him.

They notice Harry and they have absolutely no mercy on him, asking him questions about Jay and about Louis and about the band and it makes Harry mad. It really does because a wonderful person has just passed and they have no respect towards anything, they have no boundaries.

But Harry's been through this, he can't do anything so he shoves past them with effort from Liam and together they get into a black sleek car.

“Happy welcome, yeah?” Liam laughs bitterly as he starts the car. Harry's trunk is in the backseat, rattling away the silence.

“Yeah. Feels like home.” Harry chuckles drily. He hasn't been in London for a long while. After he moved to LA, he's been busy with filming.

“Missed ya, mate. How are you?” Liam asks genuinely. His eyebrows are creased and his eyes shine worriedly.

Harry's not surprised, he's always been so caring.

“Would you like the truth or a lie?” Harry laughs as he takes in the passing scenery, but before Liam can give him an answer he quickly changes the subject. “I almost forgotten how much it rains here. Bloody ridiculous.”

Liam cracks a smile, “You should have been here yesterday. The sun was shining out of a newborn ass crack.”

Harry snorts loudly and turns to Liam with a grimace, “You've been with Zayn to much, god. What even,”

“That was bad… wasn't it?” Liam laughs with squinted eyes, “Maybe you're right.”

They fall quiet after that, a nice yet tense silence between them.

It’s been a while.

Of course, Harry has the urge to ask about Louis. He always does and he wonders, it's okay to ask about him in front of Liam, right? Liam is his friend and he understands what he's going through, at least he knows about it, not quite understand.

Harry picks at a loose thread in his white jeans, his nails are repainted black, the chipping kept bothering him on the plane.

“Go on. Ask. I know you want too.” It seems Liam can peek inside of Harry's head, then again, he was never good at hiding, or lying.

“He's bad, yeah?” Harry murmurs, “Jay meant everything to him, can't imagine how he's doin’.”

Images of Louis smoking and drinking flashes inside of Harry's head and he clenches his hands before he shakes them away.

Liam frowns, “At first he was, yeah. But with everyone here, he's been getting better.”

Harry smiles the smallest of smiles because that's good, that's really good. But in the back of his mind the thought of what Louis did before everyone came, the drinking, his lack of sleep, the women, oh god his other partners, that’s what hurts, all of it - mostly the partners part but still - it hurts because Harry doesn’t like seeing Louis like that, hates it because he can’t do anything to help him, Louis won’t let him help.

“Everyone there?” Harry knows the answer, but he asks anyway, probably to stop them from sitting in silence because silence lets Harry think, and he doesn’t want to think. He’ll just start crying and he doesn’t want to do that, not yet at least, not when he hasn’t even gotten there yet.

“Yeah, when I left everyone was playing FIFA.” Liam says. They stop at a red light and Harry wipes his sweaty palms against his skinny jeans.

They’re close.

“Does he know?” Harry pauses, pulls his bottom lip between his fingers, his eyes dart to Liam before flittering over to the window and back again, “That I’m coming.”

Liam bites the inside of cheek, Harry can see the indent, and instantly he knows, but he wants to hear Liam say it.

“Yeah.” The word sounds heavy as Liam says it, and Harry nods his head, mostly for confirmation - really it’s just him doing something, he pinches his thighs to distract him, a nervous habit, much like the paint chipping.

Suddenly everything feels much more real, which is nerve racking because Louis knows he’s coming, and Harry knows he knows and he doesn’t know how Louis will react - horribly, he guesses.

“Don’t stress it,” Liam says, “I can see your gears turning,” He taps his temple.

Harry wants to laugh, he does, but it’s a nervous laugh, not his usual happy go-lucky laugh. It’s a laugh that tells Liam how ridiculous he sounds. Harry can’t not stress or worry or freak out, he can’t because the man he’s in love with doesn’t love him back.

Harry’s leg starts to bounce, he wants to run away, leave before they get to Louis’ - which isn’t that much farther, which actually makes the urge to run that much stronger. Harry is definitely regretting this and he hasn’t even gotten there yet.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Liam tries.

Harry scrunches his nose and glares daggers at his rings - he started twisting them after his thighs got sore from all his pinching.

“Yes, we had a nice little chat about the weather.” Harry mutters distastefully.

Liam sighs and Harry is quick to apologize, he doesn’t mean to take it on Liam, “M’sorry.” He whispers.

“S’alright.” Liam smiles reassuringly, but it does little help to make Harry feel better.

In fact he feels worse because now they’re pulling up to the house. It’s not big, just enough to house the family, there are cars parked around it, some he recognizes and others he doesn’t. The dinosaurs in his stomach become lively once more and start to trample his insides again and his heart races in chest. His hands are sweaty and he wipes it against his jeans.

It’s okay to be nervous - scared is more appropriate.

It’s loud, there’s laughing and giggling and Harry can already see the whole family, close friends included, having a good time, no doubt trying to avoid the thick feelings brewing inside, and as Harry thinks this, he thinks of Louis. How can he not. He’s the whole reason why he’s even here - also the reason why he’s having second thoughts.

Liam grabs his bag, but Harry takes it from him, he has to have something to grasp, something to grab onto and clench when he sees Louis, needs it for a distraction. It’s not much of one but Harry will take what he can get.

“You ready?” Liam asks, pats Harry’s back with a firm hand. It’s not so much of ready but more of an are you okay? Can you do this?

No turning back now.

Harry sucks in a breath, gulps down the nervous lump in his throat and nods.

“Ready.” He whispers.


	2. 2

Harry can hear the sound effects of the game first and then the victory shout of Niall followed by loud laughter. 

It sounds… nice. Like nothing in the world is worrisome. 

If only it were all true though. 

Then Harry smells something good, something warm and spicy, food. Since he's gotten off the plane, his stomach growls for the first time. He hasn't realized how hungry he is until now - the only reason he is hungry is because he skipped out on the plane food - he's always hated it, so yeah, he's pretty hungry. 

With the way the living room is set - the flat screen faces away from where Harry and Liam walks in, so the couch that squishes in Niall, Zayn and Louis faces him - and Harry silently curses the fates or whoever the hell controls the bullshit universe he lives in - so the moment he steps in he gets an eyefull of Louis. 

A happy Louis no less - which is great, very great because Harry likes him happy. Always wants to see him happy with a wide teeth showing grin spread across his face and little crinkles in the corners of his bright blue eyes - it’s beautiful. 

The first one to jump up and greet them is Niall - with his enthusiasm as a puppy. Harry can practically see his tail wagging back and forward.

“Harry!” The brunette boy yells into his ear as he wraps him into a tight hug. “Missed ya!” Harry can feel the light scruff growing on Niall's cheek as it rubs against his skin, it's different. Odd.

Harry giggles, wraps his arms around him too and smiles into his neck.

“I would say the same but I hardly recognize you! You're hair!” Harry runs his fingers through it and tugs. He's seen pictures of Niall with his natural color on Snapchat, but now that he's seeing it in person, it's a different experience.

“Yeah.” Niall chuckles before Zayn buts in.

“Looks ridiculous to me.” The dark haired man smiles widely as he comes for a hug too. “For some reason he reminds me of a duck.” 

Harry laughs before his eyes flitter over to Louis - Louis who sits on the couch and watches them with a strange expression on his face, one Harry can't tell is bad or good - he's going for bad. He has scruff on his face, a five o’clock shadow. He's not smiling anymore, stares back at Harry and Harry hopes that he doesn't say anything rude, anything that includes sharp words- not in front of the boys at least. Save him from that embarrassment. 

It falls quiet and Harry looks away, stares down at his black boots, he gulps down the lump in his throat, tries to at least but he doesn't succeed, its still there, large and buldging out of his throat. 

“We'll go see if lunch is ready.” Liam says before he nudges Niall and Zayn away. 

He's about to follow them, curse them out for leaving him there like a fish out of water but, his body betrays him and he finds himself staring at Louis again. Not like he can, it's been ages since he's seen his face in person. 

Louis isn't sitting down anymore, he's standing but his legs are pressed against the couch. 

“Uh, hi.” Harry's hands start to fidget, he twists his rings for only three seconds before he starts to pick at his nail polish again. Deep inside he just wants to shrink and hide underneath the couch Louis leans against, there he wouldn't be stared at like he's some strange creature like Louis is staring at him now. Especially after that lame greeting. 

Louis clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck, “Hey.” He replies back. 

It's awkward, Harry knows it is, can feel it seeping into his skin like it's some type of lotion he's rubbing on. He's more of a lavender type of guy but that doesn't really matter right now. Not when Louis stands before him, and feels like decades, centuries since they've had a proper conversation with out it going to shit. Like now. Definitely now.

Why does it have to be this way? 

“Uhm, Lottie invited me.” Harry feels the need to explain himself, say why he's here. 

“I know,” Louis’ voice is low, scratchy but soft. “She told me.” 

Harry rocks on the back of his heels before running a hand through his hair. Sometimes he forgets he's cut it, so he frowns and pulls his hand back down to pick at his nail polish again. 

“If you don't want me here I can leave.” Harry didn't mean to say that, really he didn't but the way Louis is looking at him, like he's some stranger inside of his home, it just slipped off his tongue with a bitter taste. His hands clenches - he can already hear Louis say yes, you can leave because I don't, I don't want you here and just as Harry was about to move to pick up his bag, hopefully not stumble like an idiot in front of him - he actually would have - Louis speaks.

“Er, no. Its fine. I think she'd be pissed if you weren't here.” 

Harry's about to ask what Louis means by she, but then he understands, feels his heart ache in his chest. Jay, he means, and Harry is disappointed, sad because Louis doesn't want him to stay because he wants him to, but because Jay would have. 

Harry swallows, blinks a few times before he nods his head. 

“Okay.” Harry hopes Louis can't hear the hoarseness in his voice, doesn't notice how thick and heavy it is, because sounding - literally on the verge of tears for multiple reasons isn't the best social situation. For either of them.

Louis scratches the back of his neck, which makes Harry even more emotional because wow, why had it come to the point where they can't even speak to each other with out feeling uncomfortable? 

"The little babes are here?" Harry pulls the question out of his ass, mostly to talk to Louis as much as he can before he gets shut out completely, and honestly he could have asked Lottie about the others. But why do that when he can ask Louis.

"Yeah, they were in the back. Playing." There's a small smile on Louis' face, one that Harry immediately takes notice of. Not because he's staring at his lips, definitely not, it's because even the smallest of things that Louis does, Harry easily takes notice. Harry hasn't figured out if it's a good or bad thing, but right now it's definitely bad. For him.


End file.
